


euphoric dread

by kingofthelosers



Category: The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Lace, Pain Kink, Smut, french kink, just a lot of morticia worship, service top gomez, the author kins gomez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofthelosers/pseuds/kingofthelosers
Summary: in which gomez addams worships his wife
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	euphoric dread

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written gomez/morticia before, please go easy on me

Crimson nails glinting with the same delicious malice as her eyes- she lay, spread out simultaneously welcomingly and unattainably, looking up at him through thick eyelashes both coyly and brazenly.

The perfect balance, the perfect night, the perfect woman.

They had danced, disguised by masks for a masquerade ball they had thrown for their anniversary, Morticia’s mask black, lacy, rough to the touch yet pleasing to the eye, warning others to stay away, just how she liked it. Upon seeing her in the getup she donned for the night, Gomez was drawn in immediately, a force pulling him toward her, kissing from each of her fingers to down the plunging neckline of her cinched black dress, even tighter than normal, velvet and figure hugging.

He hadn’t left her side since. 

Gaze smouldering, Morticia whispered, “Something on your mind?” She raised an eyebrow, calculated and seductive. 

Of course, she knew the answer. “You, _ cara mia _ .” 

“ _ Mon cher, embrasse-moi.”  _ she breathed, watching as he gulped, eyes widening and heart wrenching in beautiful agony. She knew him too well.

“French, Tish!” Gomez exclaimed, once again marking a path down her body with scorching kisses, arriving at her chest, alabaster skin seared by his lips, he felt her shiver underneath him in delicious torture.

He had realised, relatively early in their relationship, that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Gomez would readily die, kill, live, save, wear white, stroll across hot coals as if they were nothing, live in a tiny motel, dye his hair blonde, the list went on. If he knew he was fulfilling Morticia’s wishes, he would gladly do anything.

Many nights were spent with him on his knees, Morticia standing above him, showing him exactly who was in charge. She knew him, he knew her, and it was bliss. An eternal honeymoon, drenched in the comfort of darkness. 

Tonight was similar. Gomez slowly easing her skin-tight dress off, watching as every inch of her became exposed, a feast for his eyes each time. He would never tire of it, the anticipation, the hushed promises she whispers in his ear throughout each day, taunting him of what he can't have just yet until she ultimately rewards him for his patience later that night. 

“You are a work of art,  _ cara mia.  _ Nothing earthly or mortal could compare itself to you, it wouldn't dare.”

“Gomez.” she commanded, voice low yet strong. He looked up from where he was watching her dress peel slowly from her hips, eyes hooded. “Worship me,  _ mon amour. _ ”

From that moment on, he was a man possessed, unable to do anything but her bidding. After all, that was his purpose. His duty. A duty he knew inside out, and thanked each star in the sky he had the privilege to. He removed her dress in its entirety, ravenous. 

He hitched up her long, pearly white legs and pulled them over his shoulders, tugging her towards him and lowering his head. He nuzzled over her lace covered mound, cursing the scrap of fabric for blocking what he desired. Struck by basest instincts so intense, Gomez tore the garment with his teeth, eliciting a gorgeous moan from Morticia above him.

“Oh,  _ mon cher,  _ we need to have a talk about you constantly ripping my underwear, I’ll run out.” 

Gomez’s head shot up, face alight with glee. “If only.”

Her eyes glinted mischievously. “You should do it more,  _ chéri.  _ Then soon, I’ll be nude under my dress and only you’ll be aware.” 

_ Tish, you glorious tease _ . She knew exactly how to get under his skin, crawl and grow and attack like a parasite, and a gorgeous one at that. He all but growled, burying his face in her core. The noises she made were sweet music to his ears, a slow waltz leading him on.

He did not need any encouragement but it was comforting to hear, indeed he must be doing something right if he could make such a goddess make those noises. Gomez soon brought her to a climax, hearing cry in agony and ecstasy, the two most wonderful feelings.

She lay still for a few moments, limp beneath him, guard down, her body belonging to Gomez and Gomez only. 

Soon enough, Morticia pulled him up by the hair, stinging his scalp deliciously. Her control was back, as was her stamina. 

“Get undressed, Gomez.  _ J’ai besoin de vous.”  _

He didn't have to be told twice, if his cruel temptress needed him, he would gladly oblige. He stripped twenty times more quickly than he stripped her, as there were more important things to savour.

Gomez stroked her core, spreading her legs and sinking home.

_ Home.  _ There was really no other word for it, no feeling like it. She was cold in all the best ways, seeping into his bloodstream and circling through his veins. 

Watching her face contort with pleasure, Gomez picked up her hand in readiness to kiss each finger before Morticia twisted his arm, causing him to cry out in pain and thrust deeper involuntarily.

They shivered in pleasure together, breathless and alive, or dead, who knows?

“Tish, my darling, my love, my goddess-” he repeated terms of endearment between sudden bursts of pain and pleasure, ears tingling with her torturous chuckles. 

The love he felt was overwhelming, both for her and from her, he never anticipated he’d get so lucky, and he’d spent every day showing her exactly how much he cared.

“Gomez…” she sighed, breath cold on Gomez’s cheek, “My only,  _ mon seul _ .”

He couldn't help himself but shout, coming deep and hard into her core. She followed along shortly afterwards and he watched her face in pure delight, the woman of his darkest nightmares.

Later that night, when they’re curled up with his head buried in the crook of her neck she’ll whisper sweet nothings to him, more promises of torture, eternal and wonderous.

Gomez wakes every day in excitement, euphoric dread for what his glorious goddess will have in store for him that night. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "embrasse-moi" kiss me  
> "mon amour" my love  
> "cheri" darling  
> "j'ai besoin de vous" i need you  
> "mon seul" my only


End file.
